The Burden of Complacency
by Apapazukamori
Summary: The lies come so easily now, is it possible to heal? [Part 3 in a series][Ranken]


_This story is part of what unintentionally became a multi-part series. I strongly recommend you read the first two, otherwise you might be very lost in this part. ;;_

01. "To Protect You..." "Close Your Eyes" (by YasminM) for reading, and I hope you enjoy the fic! If you have a chance, please don't hesitate to review. 

**The Burden of Complacency**

"Hidaka-san?" 

I look up from the frayed edge of my sweater's sleeve. I've been picking at it for the better part of an hour, trying to ignore the woman across from me in her professional-looking leather office chair. I don't want to talk to her, but I get the feeling that she's getting tired of interrogating a brick wall. 

She's an older woman, this Kanzaki Kanna. She looks like I would want my grandmother to look, with her graying hair and gold-framed glasses. But her smile is indulgent, hollow and plastered on her face. I don't want to know what she thinks of me. "How are you today?" 

"Fine." 

She looks down at me, her eyes split in half by the rims of her glasses. But then she smiles again, totally fake. I wonder when I became so blatantly cynical, even in my own thoughts. Not too long ago, I would have given her the benefit of the doubt and figure she really did care about me. Not so much now. "I see you're wearing that sweater again, Hidaka-san. You must be very fond of it." 

I wonder if it pleases her to see me flinch. I know my face must look guilty. Hell, I would be surprised if it didn't. She has to know, Yohji must have told her more than he let on. I look back down at my sleeve, picking at the threads again. "Not really..." Yes. This sweater has been with me a long time. Through a lot. 

"Would you like to tell me about it, Hidaka-san?" I hate the way she says my name, as if the repetition will somehow wear me down. In that moment, I am furious at Yohji for getting me into this. And Omi for seconding him. I did what I did partially for them and it means nothing to them. 

"It's a coincidence, sensei." 

There's a soft scratching of pen on paper as she jots something down on her pad. I fight to control my temper. I have to play along, because if I don't, they'll try and lock me up. Or they'll send me away.... kick me out of Weiß. I can't let that happen. Not when the only bright spot I can come up with through all of this is that if I play my cards right, make a few promises with my fingers crossed behind my back, everything will go back to normal. 

I haven't seen him since that night. 

When I woke up, they wouldn't even let him in the room. 

I miss him so much it hurts. 

Yohji and Omi managed to keep him away from me, but in their zeal to be cavalier, they'd neglected to remove a small vase of white roses. No arrangement, no hidden meaning. Just pure, snow like roses sitting on the table by my elbow. The gift had been so unlike him, they'd probably figured it to be from one of the adoring fangirls. Lord knows there were enough of those cluttering the room with garish colors and too heavy aromas. Because I was awake, and there was no hint of anything "unsafe," they hadn't even bothered to open the card. Just like the flowers, it had been unsigned and unadorned. 

It had simply read, "I'm sorry." 

I have the card in my back pocket as I sit here, trying to give my best effort to appear normal. Healed. Cured. 

He's never apologized before. 

Kanzaki coughs softly, once again baiting and capturing my attention, pulling me away from a fragile hope that is the reason for both my performance and my impatience. When I look up, something flickers in her eyes and I can only assume that she's seen something that makes her rethink her strategy. She scratched another note or two onto the paper, then settled her hands over the writing and smiled at me. "I hear you like roses, Hidaka-san." 

Unsure of where this is going, I just incline my head slowly. "I'm a florist, sensei," I say carefully. "I like lots of flowers, though my favorites are probably gentians." 

She tucks a strand of graying hair behind her ear and nods readily. "I've always liked lilies, myself." She pauses as if trying to remember something. "Gentians are blue flowers, right? I'd imagine they'd go very well with white roses." 

"Red roses," I correct before I can stop myself, trying not to think on his gift and instead focusing on the arrangements the girls at the flower shop sometimes asked for. They liked red and blue, purple and violet or lots of pink and white. There were girls who ordered flowers simply because she'd heard one of us liked them. Sometimes the arrangements were given right back to us as gifts, other times they would take the blossoms home and do Heaven knew what with them. 

Kanzaki just nods thoughtfully. "Red roses, then." She glances down at her paper and I start to fear that I'm in the process of being lured into a trap, if I haven't been caught already. The hair on the back of my neck lifts, sending an uncomfortable shiver down my spine. "Do you like your work, Hidaka-san?" 

What a stupid question, if only she knew. "The hours are good, sensei," I reply. "I have plenty of time to do other things after work." 

She smiles. "Like what?" 

I'm still cautious, because that smile looks almost like she means it. She can't care that much about my job to break out of her university-trained humoring smile into something meaningful. "I teach soccer to some of the local kids three times a week." 

She makes a show of counting on her fingers. "And what do you do the other four days?" 

If I hadn't promised Yohji and Omi I would sit through the two-hour session like a good boy, I would've left by now. As it is, there's barely a half an hour left of the torture, but I'm feeling very claustrophobic at the moment. My hands pick nervously at my sweater without my even having to look. At least some part of me can hide from her. "I work out." My answer sounds lame, though it isn't a lie. "I've been thinking about trying out for one of the J-League satellite teams." I'm not sure what made me pull that excuse out, but it's as good a reason as any, despite how much it grates. 

Her smile becomes warm and I can even see a hint of teeth. "I wish you luck, then." 

I sit back in my chair, trying to hide the pure discomfort I'm feeling now. She has to know what I'm telling her isn't true. There's no way Yohji and Omi hadn't given her a complete dossier on me in order to arm her against the only thing that will make me happy. "Kanzaki-sensei," I begin, adding a shaky smile in for good measure. "I'm not feeling very well today, do you think we could end early?" 

Her eyes widen with concern. "Of course, Hidaka-san," she sets her notes aside in preparation to stand. Maybe she thinks she'll need to help me. "But if you could just answer me one question… 

"Do you want to see Fujimiya-san again?" 

My eyes have to be the size of saucer plates and now I really do feel ill. I glance down at my feet and suddenly feel so tired. Tired of being scrutinized and questioned. Tired of having my team mates watch me every minute, as if they're afraid that I'll suddenly bolt up to his room and throw myself at him. As if he'd let me. I'm tired of wanting, tired of wondering. 

I'm tired of lying. 

"Yes." I pick at my sleeves and wonder how my voice got to be so small. "I want to see him." 

I feel a hand on my shoulder and startle, looking back up to see that her smile has melted away, leaving a strange sort of sympathy in her eyes. "Do you want to talk about it, Hidaka-san?" 

"I think… I should." 


End file.
